


Flight

by renzie17



Series: zutara week 2015 [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renzie17/pseuds/renzie17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was consistently at that one spot in the courtyard when the bells clanged and it was time to stop and respect the deity of the Fire Nation. His father was probably going to break all hell for him actually harboring even feelings of infatuation for a local like her; nonetheless, he grabbed that opportune moment of stillness to talk to her.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight

**Author's Note:**

> For Zutara Week Day 2: Vigil!  
> This story is /slightly/ based on the Philippine colonial era (i'm sorry if there isn't any justice to it D::: ); everyone lives in Ba Sing Se, even some Water Tribe people as it is like a flourishing capital of sorts and the Fire Nation took over; this fic has become a monster steadily growing in my head; I totally got “Vigil” wrong, but it’s a prompt and it was meant to stimulate my imagination.
> 
> ENJOY!

The bells’ tintinnabulation resounded throughout Ba Sing Se; on the courtyard, within the buildings, along deserted corridors, through the entrance hall. It was a sign that stopped everyone from walking to pray, and everyone obliged. At twelve noon, three in the afternoon and six in the evening, the world stops to pray.

Or at least, that’s what was prescribed. Zuko, on the other hand, stared. Since his final year in the university, he would catch a certain brown-haired local at the courtyard standing and waiting by a bench near a Fire Tree. The number of times he hadn’t seen her when the bells chimed was measurable by the number of his fingers. She was always there.

She looked about two years younger than him; he was already 22. Her long curly brown hair was usually in a neat bun, but Zuko liked it better when she let it down. Often, she wore the traditional bubble-sleeved chemise with shawl around the shoulders and a long skirt.

Her features were not like that of his people so Zuko concluded she was a native with a prominent family—her father must hold a position in the government or something similar; the women of his people often wore more elaborate dresses and hairstyles to show off _their_ heritage: Fire Nation.

It had been over a hundred years since the Fire Nation colonized the Earth Kingdom and the former’s culture was already evident in every nook and cranny of the big city. Spice was the trend in foods; fashion was much like that of the Mainland, but with a few modifications; their religion had slowly become dominant in the country, hence the stopping and praying every so often; education, though limited to those of the upper class, was offered to women as well as men, different from the way Earth Kingdom and Northern Water Tribe culture was used to in upholding education.

Zuko, himself, was the Fire Lord’s firstborn son. Although he wasn’t as spoiled as his sister was (it was _she_ that their father insisted get private tutors for her education, not he). His father didn’t like him very much and had a long, depressing history with the man. He lived in the Earth Kingdom capital with luxury, but with limited privileges. Even though he was more than of age, he was still under the supervision of the city’s governing officer, Long Feng, though his Uncle Iroh was the one who guided him Zuko mostly throughout his life and accompanied him in his supposed exile.

He studied in the city’s finest university—a Sing Se University, only the best in the world— blending in with the crowd instead of standing out for his title (he had long since grown tired of being recognized and looked up to in awe if it wasn’t going to benefit him, anyway). He was cared for by his father’s servants in one of their mansions in the city. He could have everything he could ever want, but he felt like he was lacking something or missing out on something immaterial in the big picture.

So he found temporary bliss in the mystery that was the girl in the courtyard.

Sometimes she had friends with her, two girls; a small girl with a thick high bun and pale eyes and a tall short-haired girl. They both looked like they were of the Earth descent. Fewer times, she walked with a man he thought was her brother with the same high cheekbones, brown hair and skin. His hair was always in a ponytail that oddly went well with his suit.

She didn’t pray, he noticed. She would just sit at a nearby bench and wait for people to start walking five minutes later. He figured she must hold strong to her culture’s heritage; her people rose with the moon, his people rose with the sun.

Once, he got close enough to look at her eyes: they were blue as the ocean. _A water tribeswoman_ , he had thought, but she may have a little fire already mixed in her blood; her nose looked a little too pointed for one from the poles. He also noticed the blue pendant on the base of her neck— _a family heirloom_ , he guessed. It was too ethnic to have been bought from a boutique somewhere in the capital, but it oddly matched the fashion as it seemed to have been sewn on a black silk sash that secured it around her neck.

Her skin was brown, though the Fire Nation preferred its pale skinned women _. That definitely set her apart from other women_ , he thought. Her lips were plump and her cheekbones high.

 _She’s beautiful_.

 

\- o -

 

He didn’t know how long it was going to take for her to notice, but after months of staring, the jig was up.

It was the final day of Zuko’s examinations before the semester ended. The large bells clanged and the world was at a stop once more.

She wasn’t far, just a few paces away. A lot of people coming from classes or exams were around them. He stared persistently at her again, wondering where she was coming from, what she was doing there and where she was going to. Three minutes into the prayer time she glared at him.

Zuko could have been turned into ice with the weight of the look she was giving him. His pride was telling him not to look away, but his gut was telling him otherwise. He _had_ been rude.

Their staring competition lasted until the bells clanged again, signaling the end of the prayer time. She huffed visibly—exaggeratedly—and stomped away.

Zuko had never been glad for the semester break.

 

\- o -

 

The break was a month long and incredibly dull. Zuko hadn’t much to do at home as he hated going outside and he didn’t _dare_ go back to the university’s courtyard to see if the girl he had so much as been fascinated with came back even over the break. He could have been making the least bit of progress for his research project, but, being the good student that he was, disregarded that for the time being.

But sooner than he had wanted (the break was way better than studying) his final semester began. It was back to wearing suits to class and bringing books and visiting the library for his research final. He fixed his hair up in a sleek up-do and away from his face.

There was one problem: World Philosophy, the subject he had skipped in his first year. It wasn’t a prerequisite subject to anything so he figured he’d take it last, thinking he might need it to enhance his thinking. How wrong he was. And he sat next to some noisy peasant boy with big ide— _wait a second_ , he thought.

The guy looked familiar. _Way_ too familiar for Zuko to miss. His ponytail and high cheekbones were the giveaway. This was the girl’s brother! (Or the guy Zuko thought was her brother, at least.)

Thoughts raced through his mind, paying no more attention to the man in front who introduced himself as Jeong-jeong.

He thought this could be his chance to meet her! But there was the catastrophic last . . . he couldn’t even call it a meeting if he only just stared and she just glared.

But Zuko was taking his chances anyway. He wanted to apologize.

He learned that the boy's—he didn’t want to call him a peasant anymore, not with his motive—name was Sokka and that he was on his final semester as well. He was smart and liked to chat about the things Jeong-jeong would teach the class. Zuko mostly just drowned the sound, but caught a few current events stories of the rebellion and what makes the rebels think that way incorporated with the history of the world and blah, blah, blah. It was always like that. And it was too obvious that Jeong-jeong was as against the government as a lot of people were. Sokka liked to listen though. He and their professor were on the same page in this.

In a month, he had grown to be friends with Sokka, who was probably the first _real_ friend Zuko ever had. Sokka knew he was the Fire Lord’s son the moment he had met him and was cool with that, anyway. Zuko appreciated him a lot for that. A lot of people regarded him carefully when they were talking to him, almost as if he was one of the locals.

The guy never stopped talking about anything and everything. He’d complain about the long test for his other subjects and go on and on about his sword lessons with the renowned master, Master Piandao. He shared his thoughts about the Fire Nation and freedom and didn’t even stop for a second to think Zuko was the Fire Nation’s Crown Prince. (Zuko appreciated that a lot, though.)

And sometimes he’d talk about his little sister and how annoying she was (Zuko could relate). She was a year younger than he was, two years younger than Zuko. She was studying to become a doctor and her name was Katara.

Zuko thought her name was beautiful. It was reminiscent of her heritage like the most of her. And he hadn’t seen her since the last day of his finals. He figured she took a hint and decided to change the schedule of whatever she had been doing or maybe had class at that time or something.

Sokka had told him they were from the Southern Water Tribe and migrated only so they could take further schooling. Their father was still in the south, the Chief that governed the small nation and their relations with the other nations, however still begrudgingly under the Fire Nation’s rule.

“But I guess the only way to get a step ahead of the colonizers is to humble yourself and learn the things they’re learning,” Sokka had so boldly told him.

Their class was in the morning until lunch, three times a week. Then they’d have lunch at a kiosk somewhere—yeah, immersing with the peasants, that’s what Zuko was all about—and say goodbye to each other to go to their other classes.

One fateful day, _she_ came. He was having late lunch with Sokka and a shadow suddenly came over them. One look at her told him she was avoiding him. Her brows were furrowed as eyes glared at Sokka. (Why was it that every time he was this close to her she was angry?)

“Sokka, it’s almost 1PM!” she said in a voice unbecoming of a woman under Fire rule. “I thought you promised to pass to me my books early this semester? And now you’re hanging out with _him_!” She pointed at Zuko and he was taken aback. _Really_ unbecoming of a woman under Fire rule.

“What, Zuko? Katara, relax! He’s my friend,” Sokka said in Zuko’s defense. Zuko was thrilled, though. He’d always wanted to meet her formally—or as far as formal goes.

“ _Friend_? He’s the guy I was talking about last semester!”

There it was. Zuko wanted to crawl under a rock or evaporate on the spot or something. This was an encounter he was not looking forward to, nor was expecting.

 _But it’s bound to happen if i want to apologize_ , he thought.

“Zuko’s _Mr. Stare_?” Sokka said, surprise written on his face. Zuko gave him a look for the ridiculous nickname, “Katara, this guy is the prince of the Fire Nation, in the flesh!”

She crossed her arms, “That does not in any way give me consolation.”

She was glaring at him now and Zuko had never felt so awkward in his life—and he was awkward already! He was trying not to look at her, contemplating on what to say. If he was going to apologize eventually, he was going to do it now.

“I’m sorry,” he said, standing up and facing her. He looked her in the eye and swallowed. This close, they were a brilliant shade of blue.

That’s it. He was whipped and he knew it.

She only scowled and raised an eyebrow at him. _Agni, is she making this all the more difficult!_

“I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that I think you’re beautiful and I would like to know you better.”

 _Shit. That came out wrong._ He bit the inside of his cheek and hoped to Agni this wasn’t going to get out of hand, half-promising to pray instead of stare on the designated times of the day.

Her eyes were wide and Sokka’s brows were way up on his forehead, mouth gaping wide as his fist.

“You think I’d let you as much as talk to me? What you did was unbecoming of a Fire Prince!”

Forgetting her books and her brother, she stormed away. Sokka could only stare at him; Zuko could only stare after her.

“ _You’re_ Mr. Stare?”

 

\- o -

 

It had been months since their last encounter. She had been serious when she said she wasn’t going to let him talk to her. On the brighter side, Sokka let it go. It was fine with him that Zuko liked his sister. He _had_ reprimanded Zuko on his staring, though. They had a long talk about girls and Sokka’s (ex-?) girlfriend that died. Sokka wasn’t going to play wingman, though, and he made that clear the day after the encounter.

Zuko had taken to writing her letters, though; he was sappy and old fashioned that way and Sokka told him that enough times that the title “His Sappiness” kind of stuck. He convinced Sokka to just pass the letters to her. It wasn’t telling her to go for it, it was just delivering a letter so Sokka obliged. Zuko didn’t know if she ever read them, though.

He met her again on his graduation day. Sokka was graduating too, but under a different major. The graduates were required to be blessed by Fire Sages before they could get their diploma.

It was a long ceremony, but when they were done, Sokka made a beeline for his friend. He was dragging along his father, who came to Ba Sing Se for the occasion, and his sister.

“Congratulations, man!” Sokka said unceremoniously.

“You too, Sokka,” Zuko replied, stealing a glance at his sister. _Agni, stop it, Zuko,_ he thought.

“This is my father, Hakoda. Dad, this is Zuko.”

The older man bowed in greeting as it was customary. Zuko bowed in return. He looked quite like Sokka, but with a beard from masseter to masseter and darker skin. His hair, like his son, was in a ponytail that worked rather well with the suit he was wearing.

“Sokka’s told me all about you. Are you returning to the Mainland?”

“Er, no, sir. My father wants me to stay here and observe how things are run,” Zuko replied.

“Dad’s staying over for the weekend. Why don’t you come celebrate with us?”

He noticed Katara wince at her brother’s words from his periphery. He wanted to, really, but there was one problem. “Thank you, but m-my father’s in the city and wants to . . . er . . . celebrate.” _Or as far as celebration goes_ , he thought, “I can’t really say no to him.” He grimaced.

“Oh, okay. But let’s hang out again, alright? I’m gonna be staying in the city for a while and watch over Katara.”

Zuko looked at the girl in question. _She’s not really a girl anymore, though_ , he thought. _She’s a woman._

The next moment, she was glaring at him again. Zuko looked away quickly.

He bid the family a good day and as they walked away he looked back after them—after her; always after her.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and found his own sister, Azula. She looked like the proper Fire Princess in the stiff and thin scarf around her shoulders, a traditional chemise made of light material and elaborate embroidery that bubbled at the sleeves, and a long black skirt that started from her waist down to the floor, red under the accented folds. Her hair was up in a bun, her royal headpiece proudly placed to keep the do together. And she wasn’t Azula without her red lipstick and menacing smile.

“Congratulations, Zuzu,” she began, sarcasm dripping in every word. Zuko winced at the old nickname, “You’ve finally graduated into the downward spiral of peasantry. How wonderful to have you in the family. Father is just _so_ proud.”

He was already too used to Azula’s insults, but if he was honest, it did kind of hurt. His father loved her better than him and did everything he could to make him feel that. His sister didn’t make it any better by reminding him.

But Zuko did feel a sort of brotherly affection for her. She _was_ still his sister, after all.

“Where’s father?” he asked, ignoring her comment.

“He’s talking to Long Feng. It seems there are more rebels in this city than we estimated and they are currently hiding in the rainforests on the outer ring. They also captured the man responsible for the leak of information to the rebels. You know Jeong-jeong? He used to be a general before he retired to teaching in BSSU.”

Zuko’s eyes widened. He knew the old man was involved somehow somewhere, but he didn’t know it was right under their noses. It was a mystery how the rebels found out about the new soldiers being sent out through the northwest gate.

“Father told me to meet you,” Azula said, breaking his thoughts. She smiled at him. It looked force, but Zuko knew better. “But really, Zuzu; congratulations.”

And Zuko couldn’t help but feel like she had that same affection for him sometimes. She just didn’t know how to express it. She could have given him a hug, but she was Azula and Azula didn’t do hugs.

“Who’s that girl you were looking at?” She asked as they strolled down the cobblestoned streets of Ba Sing Se on the way to their rest house. Zuko almost tripped.

“W-what?”

“Please, Zuzu. It’s an insult to my intelligence if you lie.” She paused and looked at him from the corners of her eyes. “That water peasant with the long brown hair, trying to look as if she has some place in society just like the rest of her family.”

He balled up his fist to try to contain his anger. But Azula only continued.

“They may have status and power, but they’ll never be Fire Nation, Zuko.”

He froze; she kept walking.

“It will be good for you to remember that.”

He knew his sister was only looking out for him.

He kept telling himself she was right and that Katara wasn’t worth his time and attention. He could be surrounded by Fire Nation noblewomen if his father would only allow him to return to the Mainland.

He stopped thinking for a moment and touched the scar on the left side of his face as he lay down on his bed after dinner. The fire his own father sent at him from an alcohol lamp was meant to kill if it weren’t for his mother who interfered. She was banished since that night in the Fire Lord’s office for treason.

He had only told his father he wanted private lessons from him in becoming Fire Lord. The man didn’t say anything but threw the fire at his own son and Zuko’s mother came in just in time to push him away, but the deed was done.

The next thing Zuko knew he had a bandage wrapped around his head and his mother was banished.

He never knew what the story behind his parents was. Rumors were all over the palace that he was an illegitimate child of his mother and another man, and that his father believed that rumor since he and the Fire Lady were only arranged to marry. They found out it wasn’t true eventually, but the grudge Zuko’s father had against him was already too deep.

Zuko closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take his mind off of the past.

 

\- o -

 

He saw her again where he had hoped to see her: the courtyard at the time of prayer. Zuko thought she might have returned to her schedule, or that maybe her classes were in the afternoon that semester. She didn’t notice it was he who was sitting beside her until he called her name.

He couldn’t stop thinking of what Azula had told him, but he did value his friend’s sister’s feelings and he wanted to fully apologize to her personally (and not in any of the letters he sent her).

He noticed the blush on her face when he called her name, and when her eyes met his, all the feelings he had been suppressing resurfaced. He was so infatuated it frustrated him to the edge.

But she couldn’t move now, and neither could he. They would be told to stop if they started walking and Zuko knew Katara knew that. This was the best time for this conversation.

“What do you want?” she hissed.

“I told you: I want to _profusely_ apologize for that other time,” he whispered, but he wasn’t sure it was for that reason alone anymore.

She just scoffed.

“Katara, please, I really want to know you better.” A blush crept on her face that mirrored his. He was smitten, but determined. Agni knows his father wasn’t going to be proud of him, but the man hated him already. What more did he have to lose?

His subconscious mind told him he was about to lose so much more if he let this continue, but he ignored the nagging feeling in favor of his feelings for the girl at his right. He was so whipped.

“I’ll give you until the prayer ends,” she whispered, “If I’m still unconvinced you will swear to never as much as look at me again.”

And the period had just started. Zuko prayed he had enough time.

So he explained. He explained the day he had first seen her and how she had been a big mystery to him when she kept coming back. He told her that her necklace had always fascinated him and he had always wondered what made her ceaselessly come to the courtyard during prayer time. Then he told her how his curiosity just grew and grew until it was a monster in his head that kept him awake at night. He told her his father was probably going to break all hell for him actually harboring even feelings of infatuation for _her_ (a local, a _peasant_ , but he didn’t say those words; he couldn’t), but he didn’t care anymore because she was right next to him and they couldn’t move while the prayer was still ongoing so he grabbed the opportunity to talk to her.

The bells clanged.

People began to move to wherever their business was. Katara sat there looking at him looking at her. They sat there in silence for what could have been forever.

“I read your letters,” she muttered and looked away, “I thought they were sweet.”

Zuko sat up straight. “Does that mean you accept my apology now?” he asked hopefully. _Women and beating around the bush, really_ , he thought and shook his head.He was practically on his toes, had he not been sitting down.

“I guess it does,” she replied with a shrug, still looking away.

“Then will you give me a chance?” He stood up, anticipating her answer.

Birds fluttered to the floor made of cobblestone and people passed by, some occasionally looking their way. Zuko couldn’t hear anything but the thumping of his heart on his chest while struggling to listen if Katara had said anything yet. She really took her time to think.

Then she finally looked up at him with a resigned look on her face, blood rushing to her cheeks.

“Sure.”

 

\- o -

 

After his father and sister left the city, Zuko and Katara had regular meetings (she refused to call them dates), trying to get to know each other more. They explored the city, Katara taking him to places he had never been to before; Zuko taking her to restaurants she had never eaten in before.

They would talk and share stories about each other’s day. That eventually evolved into telling each other about their past: how Katara’s mother died in the hands of the Fire Nation (she tried to be as transparent as she could without offending him, but Zuko didn’t really mind), Zuko’s parents’ marriage and how they fell apart and why his father hated him. Katara once told him she was kind of glad she gave him a chance. Zuko smiled and took that as a signal to finally hold her hand.

It had not been much of an issue who the Fire Prince was dating. People always assumed it wasn’t serious if it wasn’t with a pureblood Fire national. But this, Zuko felt, was different as his feelings for the Water girl grew like the monster that kept him awake at night. Their relationship had gone on like this for a year and people started talking. Rumors were everywhere about him going out with a Water girl and Zuko knew it was about time before his father heard about it.

Sokka approved, although he wasn’t keen on the idea that Zuko was from the Fire Nation. Since they graduated, he had been researching on the rebellion and the Fire Nation, making great decisions on where his loyalties were (even though it was clear from the beginning where). This time his hatred towards their colonizers was as hot as the fire in their blood. He went on and on about Fire Nation propaganda and the discrimination in the work places and, even worse, with the less privileged people of the other three nations.

Katara told Zuko this and that Sokka was sometimes missing-in-action when she came home and that he came back at odd hours in the morning looking tired and hungry, but with fire burning passionately in his eyes. Zuko was worried for Sokka as much as his sister was. They didn’t want him to participate in the impending uprising that.

But everything got out of hand when Sokka didn’t come home for a week. When he _did_ come home one stormy night, he had a slice on his arm and was limping, body soaked in rainwater and barely conscious.

Before he passed, he mustered out enough energy to whispered three words to his sobbing sister, “They want you.”

Katara had disregarded it; Sokka’s health was much more important that moment and she lay him down on his bed and nursed him back to health. It was when Zuko came to her house the next day that she realized what Sokka meant.

“He’s in with the rebels,” Zuko said. Katara was seated beside Sokka and changing the wet cloth on his forehead to get rid of the fever he had. Zuko paced back and forth in front of the door. “He’s in with the rebels Katara. We have to make him stop this.”

She looked at him worriedly, the circles under her eyes accentuated by the lamplight. She inhaled deeply. “He told me something before he fainted.” She swallowed, “‘They want you.’”

“What?” Zuko hissed and stomped to her side, “They want whom? What?”

“Me. They want me.” She fidgeted in her seat, looking at the palms of her hands, one of her legs couldn’t stop moving. She was shaking and Zuko knew why. He knew exactly why they would want _her_.

It was because of _him_. It was _his_ fault. They wanted to take her as a ransom for Zuko to be captured so they can bribe the Fire Nation with the prince’s life.

And they were wrong— _so_ wrong, but they didn’t know that. The Fire Lord didn’t love him enough to give them freedom in exchange for the life of his only son.

But he did love Katara enough to want to save her.

“You have to leave; run away, hide, whichever suits you,” he said quickly.

“Zuko, Sokka—”

“Sokka can take care of himself. You have to hide, Katara. It doesn’t matter if the rebels take me. You know me enough to know that my father wouldn’t take that kind of ransom.”

But Zuko knew her, too. Katara would never give up on the ones who needed her. Right then, Sokka needed her. Zuko pulled on his hair.

He knelt in front of her and looked into her eyes. When she looked back into his he took her hand. “Okay, look. We can nurse Sokka back to health, but after that, _please_ hide,” he begged. “I know somewhere in the Fire Nation no one ever touches. It’s neutral soil and no one will ever know, Katara, please.” He squeezed her hand harder. He didn’t want to lose her. He could live without ever seeing her again if it meant it kept her safe.

Katara’s leg was shaking as she met the crossroads in her mind. She let go of a shaky breath. “Come with me.”

Zuko was taken aback. He had a duty to his country, but was he willing to throw it all away for her?

But it wasn’t for her, was it? It was for peace. He didn’t want conflict. But was that what he really wanted? He grew even more frustrated and anxious. Zuko was at his own crossroads.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally said.

Katara jerked her hands away from his, “If you get to think about your decision, then _I’ll_ think about leaving.” She stood up and left the room.

 

\- o -

 

There was a rapping at the door two days later.

Sokka was awake, but still weak. He had told them how the guerilla base he stayed in was raided and he had had to get undercover before he could return home. Before he was allowed to leave, there was a meeting he was finally allowed to be part of. It had been decided the rebels were going to go after Zuko’s “lover” to lure him into their hands. None of them knew she was Sokka’s sister, but even so, they would stop at nothing to capture someone important to the Fire Lord in exchange for liberation from the colonizers, even if it meant capturing and possibly torturing one of their own.

Katara in turn had told him about Zuko’s plan and the logic behind it. Sokka was all for it if it meant keeping his sister safe, but Katara argued against him. She had always argued against him.

It was almost six in the evening and they were in Sokka’s room, Sokka on his bed with Katara on his bedside and Zuko by the door. Their heads simultaneously cranked to the direction of the front door, anxious.

“Katara—” Sokka whispered.

“I’m not leaving, Sokka.”

Zuko countered, “Katara, please stop being so stubborn and—”

“I’m not leaving Sokka alone!” she hissed.

“You’re _not_ leaving me alone!” Sokka defended, “These people know me and wouldn’t hurt me. If you leave now I can just tell them you were gone when I got here.”

She was frozen and speechless. The rapping came more urgently. It was Zuko who was on his feet. He opened a few of Sokka’s drawers and took a bunch of clothes. He grabbed the bag on the bedside and stuffed the clothes in there, telling Sokka to tell his Uncle he had permission to go through his things and that he was going to the place where the white lotus opens.

“Tell them your sister and I decided to run away together,” Zuko said, his heart heavy. Here it was: the weight of his sacrifice. “It’s the only way to make them believe you; otherwise they’d think you tipped her off.”

Sokka only nodded gravely and quickly gave his sister a warm embrace. Everything he could have said was put into that one gesture and Katara hugged him harder. He patted Zuko’s back and made his way to the front door.

He pulled Katara out through the backdoor before she could protest. They were out into the warm night and thankfully the back area of the siblings’ house was too secluded and narrow to have had anyone else standing watch.

They ran through the streets where the number of people was more concentrated to avoid curious glances and recognition. He looked to the woman behind him and saw tears glisten on her face. He wanted to stop and dry her tears and tell her everything was going to be alright, but he couldn’t. Not when they were supposed to be running away. Not when they had little time to make a quiet exit.

The bells clanged. It was six o’clock in the evening and the people were stopping to respect the time of prayer. They didn’t have a choice.

Zuko pulled her close where a crowd of people were standing and let her cry into his shoulder, finally taking that time to pray that they would be safe—that Sokka would be safe, that _she’d_  be safe. Five minutes of silence and it was over.

They ran away into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> OH WHAT A MONSTER TO WRITE. Seriously, it’s 2AM in my country and I’m here revising even if I have work tomorrow and I haven’t even checked for mistakes thoroughly. I’ve had this idea in my head for a short time, but it was so interesting (and hard, mind) to write. I wanted to give them a taste of my culture so the dresses were based off of old Philippine dresses people in that class wore leisurely. You can Google it! Go search for 'Maria Clara gown'. I hope I described it well enough without having to use the local jargon on the wiki page. Huehue.
> 
> And that’s right, folks! This is going to be continued in the day 3 prompt: Clandestine! *confettiiiii* I hope you guys liked it. Leave me a comment/message/review/whatever suits you if you wanna tell me how you feel about it. :D
> 
> Thanks for reading and once again, happy Zutara Week!


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